Sick Day
by Therianthropicy
Summary: Stiles has the flu. When Stiles has the flu, it's always a big deal, but he can't really afford to stay home after the incident with the Nogitsune. Stiles/Derek Reviews are welcome!
1. Chapter 1

Stiles head felt like it was about to explode. The pounding wouldn't stop and everything was spinning. He slowly sat up and let out a whimper. He didn't get sick often, but when he did it him hard. He'd be home for at least a few days. He'd spend the day on the bathroom floor struggling with the chills and the threat of his previous dinner coming back up. He couldn't afford to spend another day out of school though. With all of the pack business, and his run-in with the Nogitsune, it just wasn't an option. He climbed out of bed with one hand steadying himself on the nightstand next to him.

"Stiles, hurry up, you need to get to school! You're going to be late again, buddy." His dad hollered from downstairs.

Stiles groaned again and made his way over to his closet and slipped on an old shirt and found a pair of sweat pants. Not his usual attire, but it would have to do for a sick day.

"I'll be right down Dad!" Stiles yelled back. His voice was cracking a bit and he could feel the bile rising up his throat. Oh shit he thought and he hastily made his way to the bathroom and emptied his stomach into the bowl. It was not going to be a good day. How the hell was he going to keep this from the rest of the pack? They'd surely be able to smell it on him. They'd probably get worried and give him more pitying glances. He didn't need that right now. After everything that happened he was done with the pity and the gloom. He didn't need anyone to feel sorry for him. Not anymore.

He wiped his mouth on the rag on the sink and proceeded to brush his teeth. His mouth tasted awful. He did it twice just for good measure. Once he was done he walked back into his room and stuffed his books in his bag and made his way downstairs.

"I made some bacon and eggs if you want some." His dad said in between bites of a doughnut. Stiles reached out and grabbed the other half and threw it in the trash.

"Hey! That was mine!"

"Dad, you need to watch what you eat! You know what the doctor said. Eat some Cheerios, and no sugar!" He turned and headed to the door, ignoring the plate of bacon and eggs. That would have made things worse. He slipped into the Jeep and headed to school.

* * *

He stood at his locker and shakily opened the door. The chills were starting to really bother him. Breathe he told himself and took in a breath. It was going to be a long day. A locker slammed next to him and he jumped.

"Hey Stiles! You doing okay? You look a little pale." Scott, his best friend, looked at him with a frown.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I didn't get much sleep last night that's all." Scott eyed him a little more and sighed.

"Well if you say so." Scott pulled him to their first hour.

Scott hadn't really been in a good place since everything happened with Allison. He probably just didn't want to deal with Stiles and his pathetic sickness. They both took their seats and his eyes drifted to where Allison use to sit. It was his fault that Allison was dead. He hung his head in his hands and let the grief pour over him. It was an everyday thing, for the both of them. They'd see her seat and just lose it. It had gotten a little easier, but it still bothered both of them. The hour drifted by slowly and he just couldn't concentrate. His headache had gotten worse and now everything hurt.

The bell rang and he flinched, but he got up and headed towards the door before Scott could stop him. Six classes to go. He could do this. Maybe. He dragged his feet to his next hour across the building but when he got their his stomach started to betray him.

"Shit. Not again." He said and ran towards the bathroom. He emptied his stomach, once again. The bell rang.

"Oh great, now I'm late too! Screw it!" He threw his book at the wall and sank down on the opposite wall.

"Stiles?" A voice said and made it's way into the bathroom. Stiles grabbed his things and put them back in his bag. It was Derek. Derek Hale. The one who didn't really like Stiles, at all.

"Oh hey, Derek. What's up? You're not really a student here anymore, so you should probably leave. Uhh Do you need anything?" he rambled on.

"You smell like Vomit, Stiles." Derek stated a slightly annoyed and worried look on his face. More pity.

"I'm fine, Derek. It's nothing really. If that's the only reason why you're here, I'm alright and you can go now."

"I came because Scott said you looked awful, and he was right about that. You are not fine by any means. How did you even get to school?" Derek walked over to him and put a hand to his forehead. It felt cool against Stile's head. He wanted nothing more than to lean into Derek's touch and let him hold him. Of course that would probably creep Derek out...A lot. So he just moved back away from Derek.

"It's not that bad. Really. It's just a small cold. I'll get over it by tomorrow. I can't really afford to skip school right now."

"Stiles." Derek stared at him again. "It is that bad. You're burning up. Let me take you home. Get you in the bed." Stiles lost his breath. He suddenly felt dizzy and his legs betrayed him as he started to fall Derek reached out and caught him.

"See? I told you, you are not fine." Stiles nodded and gave into Derek's touch and let him lead him out of the school and into his car. Derek snapped on his seat belt and walked over to the driver side and got in. In that moment, Stiles fell asleep. Sleeping easier than he had in the last few weeks. It would be okay, eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke up in bed. His head felt worse, his nose was running, and he had that sick metallic taste in his mouth. He threw off the covers and bolted for the bathroom door for the third time that day. When he was finished he sat back on the wall and pulled his knees to his chest. The past few hours flying through his mind. Derek had came and collected Stiles from school, like he was a child again. He could smell chicken soup from downstairs.

Derek must still be here.

He sighed and got up from the floor shaking a bit as he did. His entire body ached. He definitely had the flu. He headed for the stairs and walked down slowly, the stairs creaking as he stepped down. He walked into the kitchen and eyed the back of Derek.

"Derek?" He asked as his voice cracked a bit.

"Stiles, you should be in bed." Derek said with his back to him at the stove. He was stirring the soup and his posture was relaxed. Something that Stiles had rarely seen. Derek was not a relaxed person. He was always uptight, even when they had some downtime. Of course, he'd been through a lot and he couldn't trust a lot of people. Stiles didn't blame him for always being uptight.

"I don't need a babysitter." Stiles said quietly.

"Did you get sick again?" Derek asked, ignoring Stiles previous remark.

"No." Stiles replied a little too quickly.

"You're lying."

"If you knew that, why did you even ask in the first place?" Stiles snapped back. Derek finally turned around and looked him in the eye. There it was again. The pity. Everyone pitied him. He didn't want it anymore. He was broken, and he was hurt, and now he was sick too. He was tired of it.

"Come on, go lay down on the couch." Derek ushered him into the living room, a bowl in one hand, and a bottle of pills in the other. Stiles complied and sat down on the couch. Derek offered him the bowl and he grabbed it.

"Thanks." Stile said and brought a spoonful to his mouth.

"I'll get you some water for the pills." and he walked out. Stiles laid down the bowl and curled up on the couch. He wasn't really hungry, and nothing Derek could say would make him eat the soup. He felt like there was a giant hole in his chest, and he couldn't fill it. No one could. He'd been the reason why Allison had died. It was his fault.

"Stiles." Derek spoke softly. Stiles looked up at him, the tears starting to fall.

"Oh hey. Thanks for the water I really appreciate it. Thanks a bunch." He grabbed the glass of water and the pills, popped a few and washed them down. He looked down at the floor and analyzed Derek's shoes. Dark work boots. They were a bit scuffed, but they still worked fine for Derek. He obviously didn't really care about the looks.

"Why are you crying? Are you feeling worse?"

"No, No. It's fine Derek. I'm not crying. The cold's just bugging my eyes, that's all." He rambled on some more.

"You're lying again." Derek sat down next to him. Stiles sucked in a breath and stole a glance at him.

"Derek...It's my fault that Allison is dead. I killed her." Stiles looked back down at the ground.

"No you didnt, Stiles. That wasn't you. It was the Nogitsune."

"It might as well have been me! It was my fault!" He stood up and threw the nearest thing to him, a book. "She's dead because of me! Don't you understand that Derek? Everyone keeps telling me that it isn't my fault... but if I had just been stronger. I might have been able to save her. She might still be alive." He chocked.

"But I wasn't. I failed her." He whispered and sunk back onto the couch.

"Stiles. Nothing you could have done would have saved her. Nobody blames you. Allison knew what she was getting into when she went to save Lydia, that's not your fault. You have to stop beating yourself up for things that you had no control over." Derek pulled him into his arms and held him. Stiles finally let the tears fall. Loud sobs escaped his lips and soon Derek's shirt was soaked in tears in snot.

"I'm sorry that you had to see me like this, Derek." Stiles sniffled.

"Don't apologize, that's what friends are for."

fin


	3. Chapter 3

When Stiles finished his soup Derek led Stiles back up the stairs to his bed.

"Derek, I don't need a babysitter. I'm not five and you're not my dad. I can handle a little cold."

He coughed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Yeah I heard you the first billion times. You may not need a babysitter but right now you definitely need a friend. You're sick because you don't take care of yourself. If you can't take care of yourself, someone else is going to have to take care of you." Derek growled back with a smirk on his face. "And second stop wiping your nose on your sleeve. That's disgusting." He said as he offered him a kleenex which appeared out of no where.

"I'm not a child!" Stiles yelled, grabbed the tissue, and stomped into his room.

"You sure act like one." Derek chuckled under his breath.

"What did you say?" He scowled back at the older boy.

"Nothing. Nothing. Get into bed."

"I don't want to." Stiles sat down at his computer desk and wrapped a blanket around himself. He glanced at the clock.

2:36 PM

"Scott should be getting home from school soon." Derek said quietly. "Maybe he'll come over and keep you company."

"No. I don't need company. I'd rather be alone. It's no big deal. I don't want to get him sick anyway." Stiles said quickly. Derek sat down on his bed.

"Scott doesn't get human illnesses anymore. Nice try. You can't hide from everyone all the time. You have to let them back in. It's not healthy. You're sick because you push yourself away, you don't take care of yourself like I said earlier, and you hardly even eat anymore." He grabbed Stiles' phone off the side table and threw it to him.

"Call him and ask him to come over." Stiles looked down at the phone and shivered. Derek was right. He couldn't keep hiding from this problem forever. Letting Derek in about how he felt, it made him feel better. Not really physically, but mentally. For a moment he felt a little better. It was one small step, but it could lead to bigger ones. Maybe, just maybe, he could get through this. With the help of his friends he could be the old Stiles he use to be, of course with a little more wisdom. He dialed Scott's number and waited for him to answer.

"Hey Stiles! I noticed you left earlier, are you doing okay? I can come by if you want, I can bring my mom too. She can check you out since your dad's not there."

"Yeah sure. Come on over. Um. Your mom doesn't have to come. It's just the common cold. I'll be fine. Haha."

"Okay then. If you're sure. I'll be over soon!" Stiles hung up the phone and sucked in a breath. It wasn't that bad.

"Now that that's settled, go to sleep." Derek lectured and got up off the bed.

"Now." He growled.

"Okay. Okay. Mother hen much?" Stiles gathered up his blanket and moved himself over to the bed and laid his head on his pillow.

"Thanks for that Derek. I needed to call him...I just couldn't bring myself to do it, you know?"

"I know. You just needed a little push. Get some rest. I'll make some more soup." Derek smiled and closed the door behind himself. Stiles listened to the sound of his heavy feet on the stairs and fell asleep, as it was one of the most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard.

* * *

Derek was downstairs when Scott arrived. Stiles was still asleep and he had no intention of waking him up. He hadn't gotten any decent rest since the Nogitsune had controlled him and there was no way that he was going to keep that going. Stiles needed some discipline, and if Derek had to be the one to give it to him, so be it. He'd have to get his friends' help though.

"Scott. We have to help Stiles get better control of himself. He ran himself into the ground, and at this rate he's only going to get more and more sick. He needs to sleep, he needs to have human interaction with his friends, and he needs to talk about what happened. Everyone is walking on eggshells around him and it's only hurting him." Scott looked down at the ground.

"I know. I agree. But how? I've got no idea how to help him. This is the first time I've been over in forever."

"He's started opening up to you, we just have to keep him like that. We'll just have to work with him. Trial and error. I'm going to stay here tonight. Maybe you could invite Lydia, and the others to come by? He needs to be around his friends.

"He needs to know we care about him." Scott finished.

"Exactly." Derek replied.

* * *

Stiles awoke to voices downstairs. Scott must have shown up. He threw a glance over at the window. It was already dark outside. He grabbed his clock.

7:19

"Crap. I didn't mean to sleep that long." He coughed and grabbed his stomach. He still felt like he'd been run over by a truck. Twice. He waddled into the bathroom and let it all out. He sat there on the tile floor when he was finished puking out his guts and got control of his breathing when he heard a knocking at the door.

"Hey Stiles, are you okay?" Of course Derek could hear him. Werewolves were starting to get super annoying.

"Yeah. I just got a little sick. Nothing new." He reached up and opened the door. Derek looked down at him and offered a hand. "Why don't you get off the floor, brush your teeth, and come downstairs? There's some people here to see you." He grabbed his hand and lifted himself off the tile. He sighed and proceeded to wash out his mouth. Derek just stood there waiting. Stiles figured he wasn't leaving because he knew if he did, it'd take Stiles twice as long to get down there. He might have made some progress earlier, but face to face contact was a little more difficult. He turned around and swallowed.

"Okay. Let's do this." He just stood there. Derek tilted his head.

"You kind of have to move to do this."

"I know!" Stiles barked back and walked out of the room.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
